


The Bad Thing

by yours_eternally



Series: Kinktober Saturdays 2020 [1]
Category: Motionless in White (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bruises, Chris is an, Consensual Non-Consent, Gloves, Gun Kink, Handcuffs, Hostage Situations, Multi, Rough Oral Sex, Threats of Violence, Unreliable Narrator, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: Chris turns sharply and feels his pulse spike. Ricky is stood behind him. But so is someone else. He’s dressed entirely in black and his face is pale, skull-like and unfamiliar. He’s not much taller than Ricky and his heavy boots are probably giving him a couple of inches as well. He's stood at Ricky’s back, one gloved hand fisted in his hair.Looking for a quiet weekend, Chris and Ricky are heading to a remote cabin in the woods. But perhaps a quiet weekend is not all Ricky has planned for Chris.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson/Tim Sköld
Series: Kinktober Saturdays 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952473
Comments: 18
Kudos: 17
Collections: Friends in Sin Kinktober 2020





	The Bad Thing

Chris glances at Ricky. He doesn’t look back, eyes on the road looking straight ahead. The screen of his phone has just gone blank, displaying only the offline symbol instead of their route, and Chris guesses they’re officially off-grid. For the first time since they left the city Chris notices the road is very, very dark. And that they are very, very alone. 

‘We’re almost there,’ Ricky says, reassuring, seemingly sensing Chris’ mood, ‘the guy said in the email the signal is always patchy up here.’ 

‘Christ,’ Chris says, snorting softly as he shakes his head, ‘—remote cabin in the woods? No phone signal? Neither of us is a virgin? You’ve seen _Evil Dead_ , right?’ 

‘Is that the one where they’re not allowed to sleep?’ Ricky says as he indicates and turns in. 

‘ _No_ , dude c’mon, that’s—’ Chris starts, indignant, but he can see Ricky grinning in the darkness of the car. Ricky slows pulling the car to a halt and the headlights flicker three times. 

‘What was that?’ Chris asks, unclipping his seatbelt.

‘Uh, dunno,’ Ricky says with a shrug, ‘—maybe the battery is faulty.’ 

‘Rick, if we need to make a quick get away—’ Chris says, trailing him to the back of the car. Ricky pops the trunk, grinning. He hands his backpack to Chris as well Chris’ bag. 

‘Will you relax with the _Friday the 13th_ shit?’ Ricky says, ‘—go on, take those inside.’ Ricky hands him the keys for the cabin and Chris takes those as well, stumping up the porch steps and unlocking the front door. He feels a little better with the thick wooden walls between him and the creepy woods surrounding them. 

The cabin is clean and neatly furnished in a rustic style that makes Chris feel like a tourist. It’s not the dusty horror movie set he’d been expecting at all. Hardly surprising as it’s an airbnb Ricky had booked online, and Chris can’t think of a less gothic provenance than this. 

He clicks on a lamp and the room is filled with a warm, ambient glow. There’s even a log fire. And a bearskin rug (for him and Ricky to roll around on later) that’s sprawled out on the hearth. Chris peers at the rug for a moment, hoping it’s artificial, before turning to locate Ricky and get a second opinion. Chris turns and is surprised to see Ricky’s not behind him, considering he’d just heard his footsteps on the porch boards. 

‘Rick?’ he calls tentatively, feeling more and more like a _Final Girl_ by the second. ‘Ricky? This isn’t fucking funny,’ he calls, voice tightening with nerves. He pulls out his phone about to call him before he remembers there’s no signal when he sees his bars are totally flat.

There’s a footstep behind him. 

Chris turns sharply and feels his pulse spike. Ricky is stood behind him. But so is someone else. He’s dressed entirely in black and his face is pale, skull-like and unfamiliar. He’s not much taller than Ricky and his heavy boots are probably giving him a couple of inches as well. He's stood at Ricky’s back, one gloved hand fisted in his hair. 

And in his other hand he’s holding a gun.

The barrel’s sunk into Ricky’s hair and Chris feels like there’s ice running in his veins. Chris takes a half step forward, both hands going up. His eyes flicking between the stranger and Ricky. 

‘ _Please_ —’ Chris mumbles.

‘Stay where you are,’ the man says. His voice is low and quiet. Chris stills, trying to take even breaths as he feels his pulse throbbing in his chest. The man takes a step forward, dragging Ricky with him. Ricky makes a soft moue of discomfort as the man pulls him closer to Chris by the hair. 

‘What do you want?’ Chris says, eyes on Ricky. The man laughs softly. 

‘What do I want?’ he repeats, tightening the grip of his gloved hand in Ricky’s hair. Then he pulls out a pair of old-fashioned metal cuffs and throws them on the couch behind Chris. 

‘Put them through the arm and lock them,’ he instructs, pushing harder into Ricky’s head with the barrel of the gun. Chris sinks to the couch, feeling his muscles quivering with adrenaline. He picks up the cuffs hands shaking and loops the short chain through the arm of the couch; it’s one of those with a wooden frame and a separate cushion part. He fumbles the cuffs closed and the guy comes over, still dragging Ricky, to click them tight on his wrists. The pressure stings and Chris feels exposed, half-laying on his side as the guy towers over him. It sends an unexpected twist of heat through his gut.

Chris looks up at the man, trying to shove down his body’s reaction. Weirdly, he feels calmer now that his hands are bound and there’s nothing he can do to save himself. It’s a relief — almost — not to have to make the decision. Even if that’s the decision to keep himself and Ricky alive. 

The man pulls Ricky up again, so he and Chris are face to face. He’s pale and his jaw is set. But when Chris meets his eyes they’re clear and focused on him. _What?_ Chris frowns back at him. Ricky has a stranger pressing a gun to his head but he’s looking at Chris calmly like he’s merely curious what’s going to happen now. 

‘Look at me,’ the man says, letting go of Ricky for the first time and catching Chris’ jaw instead. Chris grunts, feeling the smooth leather of his glove against his skin. The man looks down at him. 

‘You need to pick,’ he says, voice still low and controlled: ‘—him or you.’ 

Chris can feel his fingertips tingling. His mouth is wet with saliva, and the grip of the man’s hand tight on his jaw is making his blood pulse in his veins. He’s not sure how he can be more terrified and more aroused than he’s ever been in his life. 

‘For what?’ Chris says, eyes flickering to Ricky. The guy shrugs, grinning. His teeth are white and even and sharp. He smooths Ricky's hair back off his flushed face and Ricky’s eyelashes flicker. 

‘Me,’ Chris says, trying to sit up and feeling the cuffs tugging at his wrists. The guy snorts. 

‘If you want,’ he says. But then he turns to Ricky, pulling him around to face him by the collar of his jacket. ‘—open up, doll,’ he mutters, adjusting the gun so it’s against Ricky’s temple and bringing his other hand to his belt. 

‘What are you doing? I said—’ Chris says, panicked, trying to get up as the guy pulls his jeans down. 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ the guy says, ‘—or you’re gonna have your boyfriend’s brains all over you.’ He puts a hand on the back of Ricky’s neck pulling him in until Ricky’s mouth is close enough. Ricky makes another soft noise of discomfort and Chris feels a jolt in his stomach. 

‘I said open,’ the guy repeats but Ricky shakes his head, shivering. Chris knows he should be disgusted and horrified but as the man brings the gun to Ricky’s lips he feels another lick of heat. 

‘ _Now_ ,’ he grunts and Ricky opens wide and the barrel slides into his mouth. The man’s hand tightens on the back of his head, forcing it deeper. Ricky gives a muffled whimper and Chris curses, trying to struggle up again. But the guy just laughs, pulling out the gun out of Ricky’s mouth sharply and replacing it with his cock, thumb on Ricky’s cheek. He points the gun at Chris instead, pinning him in place. Chris stills, eyes on Ricky. 

‘Bite me, doll, and see what happens,’ he says, as he cups the back of Ricky’s head and starts to rock his hips into him. Chris watches them, the skin on his palms tingling as the sticking noises of the man fucking Ricky’s mouth fill the empty air. It’s almost unbearable. Chris silently thanks whatever gods there are that he’s mostly on this stomach so the heavy erection between his thighs isn’t visible. It’s taking all his self-control not to work himself against the couch as he watches the man using Ricky’s mouth so roughly. The man exhales, tipping his head back. Then he pulls on with a groan. 

He doesn’t make any move to put his cock away and since Chris can see it’s still hard, he guesses he isn’t done. Chris can’t stop looking at it. And Chris can’t help but notice how good it looks; deep pink and glossy with Ricky’s saliva. 

‘You,’ he grunts at Ricky, ‘—get his clothes off.’ Chris feels a swoop in his stomach. ‘ _Now_ ,’ he snaps again, throwing Ricky towards Chris by the neck of his t-shirt. 

Chris can’t see Ricky’s face from this angle but he can feel Ricky's hands, clumsily fumbling with his jeans, and can hear him mumble that it's okay— that they just have to do what they’re told. He hopes Ricky doesn’t also feel how hard his cock is or he might die of shame. 

But Ricky doesn’t seem to notice, pulling his jeans and underwear down his thighs before the man yanks him back and tells him to shut up when he starts whimpering again. Chris feels the man’s hand now, much rougher than Ricky’s, yanking at his jeans until one of his legs is completely free. 

The air is cold on Chris’ bare skin and he’s tense with fear that the man will turn him over and see how hard he is. He feels one hot hand palming his ass and yelps trying to move away as much as the cuffs and his clothes will allow. 

‘Quiet,’ the man grunts again. The hand is removed and Chris hears rustling. He considers twisting to see what the man is up to when he feels the blunt head of his dick press against his hole. Chris yells, flinching away but the man continues pushing against him. It's cold and slick and Chris realises it's lube as he feels his body opening with a sharp shard of discomfort, even as his cock begins to throb at the familiar stretch. The man presses a little firmer and Chris nears bites through his lip suppressing a moan. He feels the man bending and getting knee up on the couch, forcing his legs apart. Then he feels his weight against his back. 

‘I can feel how much you want it,’ the man breathes against his ear and Chris feels his treacherous body clench. ‘—that’s right, doll.’ It takes Chris a moment to get his breathing back under control. Then he feels the man pull back, leaving him stretched and twitching. 

Before he can string his thoughts together, he can feel the dick pushing against his hole again. Chris whines, biting his tongue, as the man thumbs the head of his cock into him. There’s another sliver of pain but Chris is so turned on he’s barely aware of it as the man starts fucking into him properly. 

Chris can feel the gun, cool at the base of his skull, keeping his head sunk in the couch unable to think of anything other than the fact each of the man’s thrusts is rubbing his cock against the fabric beneath him. He’s so close to coming he can barely breath. 

He can feel the man’s hot hand is tight on his hip, blunt nails digging into his skin hard enough to bruise. The man’s hips are flexing into him, shunting him forward with each thrust until he’s bunched up against one end of the couch, arms folded up uncomfortably cuffs digging into his wrists. He can still hear Ricky’s stuttering breathing close by but doesn’t dare lift his head to find him. 

The guy grunts giving a particularly hard thrust and Chris feels his thighs shaking, feeling his edge. He feels the guy move his hand from hip to pull up his jacket and t-shirt, the gloved hand splaying out on the straight-edge razor inked on his ribs. The feeling of leather on Chris’ skin makes him shiver, he can feel his body clenching and knows there's nothing he’s going to be able to do about the orgasm now. 

He feels the sensation roll over him, flooding and drowning him as he comes with a raw moan, back arching. The sensation tears through his gut, his cheeks burning as much with shame as pleasure. He can feel the man shift his weight and go rigid on top of him. Then he moves off Chris, pulling out and Chris can feel his come wet on the back of his thigh. 

As the man stands leaving his skin cold from the loss of his body heat, Chris feels a new sensation rising up in his gut and retches, blinking back tears, as guilt and horror fill up every place that arousal had been before. He retches again, panting and gasping, trying to sit up pulling at the cuffs until his wrists are aching. His head is spinning. 

‘Hey, easy, easy,’ says Ricky coming to kneel next to the couch reaching to undo the cuffs. ‘— _Jeez_ , Tim, can you get some water? He’s freaking out.’ 

‘Baby, it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re safe,’ Ricky says, unlocking the cuffs and helping Chris to sit up. Ricky smooths his hair back from his face while Chris stares at him, wild-eyed and reeling. _Where had the guy with the gun gone?_ Chris hears boots on the floorboards and sees Tim trotting back towards them, holding a glass of water and frowning at him speculatively. 

‘Thanks,’ Ricky says, taking the glass and giving to Chris. Chris taking a gulp and then another, watching as Tim drops to sit on the couch across from them, elbows on his knees. 

‘ _Dude_ , you nearly pulled your fucking hands off,’ Ricky says, shaking his head as he touches the dark purplish bruising that’s starting bloom under that tattoos on Chris’ wrists. ‘—you feeling better?’ Chris nods, he can already feel himself coming down. 

‘Sorry, I’m good, I didn’t expect—’ Chris shakes his head, ‘it’s like… pure adrenaline.’ 

‘Mm,’ Tim says, nodding, ‘I could feel you shaking.’ Chris blushes and Ricky smiles at him, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek. 

‘Drink all of that,’ Ricky mutters, hands still soothing and stroking Chris. It’s grounding and familiar, and Chris appreciates it. Even if he is still slightly embarrassed in front of Tim. 

‘Is that real?’ Chris asks him, nodding at the gun he’d left on the coffee table. 

‘It sure is, baby,’ he says with a smirk. Ricky snorts softly, leaning forward to pick it up and show Chris it’s not loaded. 

‘Where’d you park? I didn’t see your car,’ Ricky asks, eyes on Tim. 

‘Oh, I parked down the road a bit— out of sight,’ he says, with a shrug, ‘felt more in character, y’know.’ Ricky rolls his eyes and Chris huffs out a little laugh. Tim being normal is helping ease the intensity of what they’ve just done. 

When Chris has finished the water, both Tim and Ricky seem to decide he can be left unsupervised for a couple of minutes. Tim says he’s going to bring his car in from the road and grab his bag. While Ricky bustles in the kitchen calling to Chris that he’s making him an almond milk hot chocolate. 

Chris takes a deep breath letting himself flop back into the couch cushions. He should probably put his dick away, at the very least. But instead he presses gently into the bruise on his wrist with the pad of his thumb, feeling a tiny pinprick of pleasure at the sting. 

He’s going to have to wear long-sleeves for days.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay Tim! 🎉 I'm a total Manson nerd so very excited to write Mr Skold.. though I am _so_ stressed about someone accidently googling this fic I want to chicken out and lock it 😅 (edit: marina told me how to hide fics from search engines, we good 🙌)
> 
> So, this is going to be a mini Kinktober 🙌 (prompts are appropriately wild) I'll be posting every Saturday in Oct, finishing on Halloween 🎃!
> 
> I'm also going to be posting prompts for Whumptober on Wednesdays (yay alliteration! 🎉) prompts are [here](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated) and they slap _hard_ so I couldn't leave them alone 😅 I'm doing Nos. 11, 22, 5 & 3


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